


Attempt

by pretzelduck



Series: Try and Attempt [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretzelduck/pseuds/pretzelduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond and Q take a holiday.  MI6's deadliest agent and its brilliant Quartermaster don't exactly make the best tourists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting Permission

**Author's Note:**

> I was requested to write a follow-up to my previous Bond/Q fic where they actually did go on holiday together. I intended it to just be a little thing - snippets of their time together. It kinda exploded on me. Oops.
> 
> As always, I can be found on tumblr at: http://esotericrunes.tumblr.com (I occasionally like, infrequently reblog, and rarely post multifandom and chronic illness stuff)

It took them three failed attempts before they actually managed to go on their planned holiday. Amazingly enough, James getting himself shot only accounted for the first one of the failures. And as he liked to remind Q, it was merely a flesh wound. Sometimes he regretted introducing his whatever-James-was to Monty Python but that sense of regret was usually assuaged by the fact that a man granted to license to kill by a country should probably be familiar with that country’s cultural treasures. He had used the same logic trying to convince James to watch the Harry Potter movies with him, with no success so far. Q was almost entirely certain that he’d seen him via CCTV reading _Philosopher’s Stone_ while waiting for a target to show up so at least there was that.

As for the second failure, while not precisely his fault, dealing with the fallout had definitely fallen under his purview as Q Branch department head. A prank war between the cyber and technical divisions had gotten more than a little out of hand. Repairing the damage inflicted on MI6 property with an understaffed (half of Q Branch had been in Medical) department had required working through part of his scheduled leave. They had contemplated going anyway but James had been short noticed shipped out to Vancouver of all places 36 hours later which had put the kibosh on that plan. The walking danger magnet had avoided being injured and had even brought back (some of) his equipment in (some semblance of) working order. In Q’s opinion, that was awfully like a holiday. James claimed otherwise - hence attempt number three.

The third attempt had failed because, quite simply, sometimes M was a bastard. He had lectured Q about the responsibilities of his position and had reminded him that the quartermaster of MI6 going unaccompanied to a foreign country was ‘completely idiotic.’ Unaccompanied because his whatever-James-was had felt no need to file for leave because he was a damn double-oh who came and went as he pleased. Apparently, it was perfectly acceptable for James to swan off on unauthorized missions but he wasn’t permitted to whittle down his earned days off without a full security retinue. Q swore he was only slightly bitter; there was some logic to M’s reasoning, after all.

Which was why he was standing in M’s office. Again. Trying to explain to the man why him going on this holiday was in everyone’s best interests. Again. Without James to smooth things over. Again.

He had stared down irate double-ohs, successfully convinced Accounting to budget for lightsaber prototypes, and had gotten James to stop leaving his wet towel on the bathroom floor. It wasn’t a problem of confidence or ability. It was more trying to explain to M why taking two weeks (they had to allot for travel time since they weren’t flying) holiday in Spain mattered so much to him and was completely feasible security-wise without using the words _I’m not going by myself, James is coming with me, we’re a couple and it started with him asking me to go on holiday with him, do you have any idea what it’s taken to get us to this point, you bloody wanker?_

Q still had his doubts that their relationship was completely unknown to the various personnel of MI6. However, the lack of both friendly teasing from Eve and charts and graphs in Q Branch detailing the statistics of their romance seemed to indicate otherwise. It made him worry slightly about the strength of their intelligence program. James kept a toothbrush at his flat, for fuck’s sake.

“It is simply untenable for you to be gone for that length of time, particularly alone in a foreign country. We have been over this, Q. If you would agree to take a security detail with you…”

“No.” He knew he sounded unreasonable and by the look on his face, M was about to call him out on it. Again. Q didn’t want to say that having own personal double-oh with him was probably security detail enough because that was the sort of unilateral decision making that could cause problems in their relationship. In the field was one thing but not in the small space which they had carved out for their private lives. Added to that was the fact that James was such an intensely private person. He had given everything to Queen and Country, to the point that he zealously guarded the scraps of his soul that he had kept for himself. No, the decision to be open about the exact nature of their relationship had to come from him.

“Q, you are being unreasonable.” Not only had he called it but he could tell M was reloading for the second half of the ‘responsibility’ barrage. Fantastic. “There are protocols that must be…”

M was stopped by the sound of his office door being opened and Q didn’t even bother to look over his shoulder to see who was coming in. Only James Bond would be impertinent enough to enter the office of the head of MI6 without knocking. What James was doing here was a bit of a mystery, though. It was possible that he was here to offer to be his bodyguard; maybe that would be enough to get M’s approval.

“007, we are in a meeting that for once has nothing to do with you or your antics.”

He could feel James stop right next to him. As in _right_ next to him. Their arms were almost deliberately brushing against each other; their fingers close enough to be entwined. That was different and unexpected. M obviously thought so too – the puzzled crinkling of his eyes gave that away. Being with James had definitely become a bit of a master class in reading the tiniest of facial expressions. Q was certain that there was a bit more obvious look of confusion on his face; he didn’t have _that_ sort of training. Physical contact and affection between them did happen at MI6 (sometimes it felt like they lived there) but only in his workshop when they were alone. Despite his reputation, James wasn’t really one for charged encounters in the nooks and crannies of MI6. Q was still quite proud of that time he’d coaxed him into snogging in the Q Branch cargo lift. Coaxed by pouncing on him but it had been completely worth it. And that was _not_ a good memory to be thinking about while he was in front of his boss.

“Actually, sir, this meeting has something to do with me, as well.” 

As he spoke, Q could feel his heart start to race as James shifted just that much closer to him and his arm wrapped around his back until his hand rested on Q’s hip in an unmistakable sign of possession and togetherness. It was a brazen move and Q wasn’t sure who was more taken aback: him or M. After a beat, it was clear that the winner there was M because he flew out of his chair and stalked over to them until he was merely two arms-lengths away. The look on his face vacillated between seriously confused and seriously angry.

“Bond! I know how you feel about respecting personal boundaries…” The fingers settled on his hip tensed and gripped and Q was mad on James’ behalf. That was an unnecessary blow. “…but stop pawing at the quartermaster.”

Pawing at? Q’s mind had a momentary flirtation with the idea of spinning around, grabbing James’ face with both hands, and kissing him until they both needed to come up for air. It was good in theory but there were other ways… equally effective and only slightly less enjoyable… of proving a point to M. Hopefully, James was amenable but him coming in here like he did seemed to indicate that he should be. As he took a short step to his left, he reached for James’ hand on his hip, curled his fingers around his, and pulled it closer to the center of his torso. They ended up with Q standing partially in front of James – chest and back pressed against each other – and it was more of an intimate position than he had originally thought it would be. James brought his other hand up to rest against his upper arm and shoulder and Q could feel his thumb start to slowly stroke the woolen fabric of his sweater. He supposed that answered that question about how amenable he’d be to further physical contact in front of M.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t exactly have a problem with my significant other pawing at me.”

He put as much derision as he dared into those last three words; he didn’t want to make M _that_ angry since frankly, he was still trying to get authorization for a holiday. And honestly, Q wasn’t that pleased with his choice of ‘significant other’ either. However, calling James Bond anyone’s boyfriend – even his – just seemed bizarre.

“If you’d looked at the schedule, you would have seen that I’ve applied for the leave during the exact same time frame as Q.” Apparently, James didn’t give a damn about not making M angry because his words were dripping with cold hostility. They often butted heads and Q was positive (although he would probably never ask) that half the problem was that M was no longer _his_ M. So the lack of finesse wasn’t that surprising but the actual content of what he’d said was. Adjusting his position slightly, Q craned his neck around so he could at least see part of James’ face.

“I’m not sure what’s more shocking: the fact that you asked permission to take off or the fact that you did paperwork.”

They were close enough that Q’s ears could pick up that almost guttural chuckle that said James was genuinely amused. Given the number of times that he’d bribed some poor secretary into doing it for him, he did have his doubts that James had actually done the paperwork himself but it was still vaguely impressive.

“I filled out the forms myself. In triplicate.” Never mind then. He looked so pleased with himself too. It was honestly a bit adorable. “Is there a reason that process can’t be done electronically?” Q could have kissed him for that alone. He had ranted about the inefficiency of hard copy paperwork (many, many times) only to be told that switching over to digital records wasn’t being considered due to ‘reasons.’

“None. There isn’t a single one. Especially if even you can figure that out.”

His blue eyes twinkled with mischief and Q’s mind started gearing up for some good bantering. Very few people weren’t offended by his sarcasm and what he’d been told was extremely acerbic wit. James was one of those blessed exceptions. He gave as good as he got, adding his own unique brand of flirty innuendo into the mix. It was delightful and had been long before it occurred to him that James’ innuendo might actually be serious flirting. The sound of a throat being cleared reminded him that they weren’t actually alone. How he’d temporarily forgotten his probably increasingly angry boss was standing there, he had no idea. He blamed James, especially as the little smirk that made the corner of his mouth quirk up told him that he hadn’t forgotten at all. Damn agents.

“Gentlemen, what in the bloody hell is going on? Are you two dating?” The sharpness and distaste in M’s voice forced his head back around and Q wondered if the man knew that a vein in his forehead was visibly throbbing.

“Yes.”

There was something romantic about how simply and clearly James answered that. To the point that his heartbeat stuttered for a second. He squeezed James’ hand that he held and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face when he felt an answering pressure.

“Quartermaster, this is no reason to be smiling.”

“Actually, yes it is.” Another quiet chuckle from James was more encouragement than his mouth needed. “There is nothing in the regulations that prohibits this development in our personal relationship and it has had little effect on our professional interactions. If it did, 007 would actually return the entirety of his assigned equipment in working order more than once in a blue moon.”

“Perhaps making an alteration to the regulations needs to be investigated.”

As soon as the words left M’s mouth, Q felt every bit of James’ body go rigid and he wasn’t surprised when he broke out of their embrace and stepped forward, standing between him and M. He tried – unsuccessfully – to keep from rolling his eyes. The protectiveness was completely unnecessary and yet completely endearing.

“I wouldn’t recommend it. Sir.”

That was the tone that James reserved for dealing with incompetence. Q didn’t recommend using it on the head of MI6 but he wasn’t about to rebuke him for it, right here and now. In private later? Quite possibly. The man had reasons to be concerned and they were likely the same ones that occasionally rattled around in his own head. Was their relationship putting MI6 in greater danger? Were they compromised in regards to one another? He tried not to think about such things too much in a vain attempt to not overanalyze everything they did. Every work-related interaction they had. There were more personal touches in their communications while James was in the field, certainly – jokes and references that only made sense to them. Rare downtime between missions now meant that rather than sitting alone in his workshop wrestling with a new bit of code, he worked on that code while James groused about having to clean cat hair off his suit.

“And I wouldn’t recommend taking that tone of voice with me, 007.”

A barely audible almost-growl from James and Q knew he needed to defuse this situation before it escalated from ‘bad’ to ‘ugly.’ He highly doubted that there would be any holiday now so the objective had become damage control. Keeping James Bond out of trouble was a full-time job. Stepping forward, he stood side-by-side with him once more and deliberately brushed the back of his hand against James’ in an attempt to help settle his temper. Both of their tempers, honestly. James wasn’t the only one who was more than a little irritated with M. A moment later and James had taken his hand, tangling their fingers together.

“We are leaving on holiday next week, sir.” Bloody hell, James. “With or without your permission.” Q wasn’t sure sometimes why he bothered to intervene. If they had been alone, he would have face palmed. He felt James tighten their grasp on each other ever so slightly and an odd sort of rebellious courage gathered up in him.

“Exactly. And I will kidnap Bond if I have to, sir.”

Did he really just say that? He sensed James turn his head to look at him and couldn’t help but turn his head to look back. Those eyes of his were sparkling with an ever-intoxicating mix of pride and pleasure.

“Are you going to manhandle me, Quartermaster?”

“Only if you behave, 007.”

M made a strangled sound of frustration and Q wondered if that last bit hadn’t been pushing a little too far.

“Enough! You two have proven your point. Take your two weeks. We will recall you if I deem that a situation requires either of you and I expect both you to obey those instructions.” All of that seemed rather obvious to him but it was apparent that M was waiting for some sort of acknowledgement before continuing with whatever it was that he had to say.

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Hopefully by the time you both get back you’ll have gotten this ridiculous foolishness out of your systems. Dismissed.”

Out of your systems?

It felt like the floor had dropped away beneath him. And how James had let go of his hand and walked out of the office with his Agent Bond mask firmly in place? Most definitely not helping. Q followed along behind; his mind whirring as it started to calculate worst-case scenarios. Going on this holiday had been the first thing James had ever asked him for – the persistent requests for an exploding pen notwithstanding. What if it was all he wanted? What if he would be done with him after this?

No. He refused to believe that. James burned toast in his kitchen and bought toys for his cats. On the rare days they were able to spend the night together, he woke up trapped in bed by a sprawling and drooling James. And the way he looked at him? Those eyes would not lie to him. But M’s words kept bouncing around in his head – the echo making it difficult to focus on anything else…

_Out of your systems._

 

-end chapter-


	2. Getting Back on the Same Page

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the meeting in M's office, Q and Bond have a few things to work out before they can leave on their holiday.

Preparing to go on holiday was more stressful than Q thought it would be. He had had to make arrangements for someone to watch his cats but the minions had begged him to let Lionheart and Nimitz stay in Q Branch while he was gone. He’d taken them and their belongings in with him to work that morning which had led to a drop a productivity albeit an unsurprising one. Hopefully, that would sort itself out over the course of his holiday.

If he even went on holiday.

At the moment, Q wasn’t sure who he was more cross with: M or James. It had been M who had all of these swirling doubts in his head with that line about him and James getting this foolishness out of their systems. But James? He had made things so much worse. They had stood in M’s office three days ago… side-by-side, hand-in-hand… and since then, nothing. 007 had marched out of there, straight past Moneypenny, and disappeared before Q had had a chance to say or do anything. He had vanished without a word and had yet to reappear. He hadn’t come to Q’s flat, hadn’t called or texted, hadn’t hovered in his workshop, or even been spotted in MI6 as far as he knew. And Q was positive he would have been caught by at least one of his surveillance systems.

Nothing.

Q had tried calling and texting a few times, to no avail. He had weighed the pros and cons of going to James’ flat (there might have been an extensive spreadsheet involved) but had ultimately decided against it. The last thing he wanted to do was push too hard, which was frankly bizarre because this whole thing (calling it a relationship stung a bit right now) started with James’ pushing. Even as he thought it, though, Q knew that wasn’t quite accurate. As frustrated as he was, he still needed to be capable of being honest with himself. For all of his persistence and innuendo, James had never pushed him. He just asked. Repeatedly and consistently, no matter how many times was rebuffed. Now, that stubbornness was working against them. Something about the encounter with M had driven him away and he was staying away. Maybe he should have gone to his flat. If James would have even been there. Or if he had even answered the door.

Q dropped his luggage onto the bed with a bit more force than he intended. His original schedule had him packed by now but things had shifted for more reasons than just Lionheart’s refusal to stop napping in said luggage while he was trying to pack. Was there even any point in packing? The plan had been for James to pick him up tomorrow at an idiotically early hour for the drive to Portsmouth so he knew he needed to actually do all of his packing tonight but it was more than slightly difficult to focus on that particular task when Q hadn’t even seen the man he was supposed to be spending a two-week holiday with for three days. It was ridiculous.

And all that did was remind him of M’s words again and that was a terrible idea. Removing his superior’s bothersome but vaguely understandable antagonism from the equation, the minutes in M’s office had been sort of brilliant. Standing there as a cohesive unit with James had warmed his heart. The two of them against M. It was often agent and quartermaster versus the world on a mission but that moment had been different. They were a couple. They were together. If he allowed his mind to focus on it, he could still feel the weight of James’ hand on his hip, possessive and claiming. He could still feel how their bodies had pressed together and the way James had held his hand. His whatever-James-was (he still didn’t care for ‘significant other’) had stood with him proudly.

Memories of a previous boyfriend who had repeatedly refused to do so were forced from his thoughts.

Perhaps that brilliance was part of the problem. They had been _them_. They had been who they were when no was watching – touching and flirting, wrapped up with wit and affection – and M had called it ridiculous foolishness to be left behind after a holiday. They had been together – so obviously so in front of someone who knew what they both were – and James had closed down and left. Q stood there staring at his dented and empty suitcase and wondered if he should even bother.

For three days, his anger had been warring with his sadness and it seemed his sadness had gained the upper hand. He preferred the anger; he wanted to be furious. What had been discovered and built between him and James was certainly stronger than M’s interference. It had to matter more than mere words. It _had_ to. But what if it didn’t? What if it didn’t matter more to James? Had he already gotten him out of his system? Was that why he’d disappeared?

His legs no longer seemed to want to support his weight and Q half-collapsed, half-sunk to the floor, his back pressed against the cold metal frame of the bed. Perhaps he should have known better. He had been aware of James’ reputation, of course; the gossip even circulated its way down to Q Branch. Handling his missions had given him a front row seat to James’ extra-curricular activities so there was no way to claim ignorance to that aspect of his background. In the beginning – when James first started to ask him out – Q had used that avoidance of anything even semi-permanent against him. And then had come that night where he’d seen so much honest hope in those bright blue eyes and he hadn’t been able to anything other than give this _thing_ between them a chance.

And it had worked. That wasn’t to say that they hadn’t had disagreements and misunderstandings but on the whole, they actually seemed to be working. James understood his dedication to his work because he shared that dedication. He didn’t make him feel guilty for still working on some project at two in the morning. James just kissed his forehead and made him a cup of earl grey. One stupid sentence from M had sent the whole thing into a tailspin, though, so how well had it actually been working? This wasn’t the first time James had pulled one of these no-contact stunts but it was always after a rough mission and they had been getting rarer. This was different. Q wished he knew what James was thinking. He wished he knew where he was. Had he done something wrong in the interaction with M? Did he push James too far by being so physical in front of M? How had those feet gotten in front of him with him knowing? 

The identity of the owner of the feet wasn’t really a question he needed to ask.

“I’m not in the mood, 007.”

The instant the words passed by his lips he wanted to take them back. He sounded as miserable and pathetic as he felt and it was quite embarrassing. He was slumped on the floor, his arms hugging his knees – Q knew he didn’t need any help in looking pathetic. It’s just that he was all too well-aware that there were _feelings_ involved here, at least on his part. The kind that were starting to deepen. The kind that wanted to last.

“You look terrible.”

That hurt. He knew, at the moment, he did. Allowing himself to sleep the absolute minimum for three days did that. But still…

“Thank you for that astute observation.”

The sock-clad feet directly in the focal point of his downward gaze were joined by legs and hips and a torso until James was sitting in front of him, in a position that mirrored his as best he could tell without looking up. It seemed his hands were even resting on his kneecaps too. He didn’t want to see James’ eyes. Q felt this need to stubbornly hang onto his sadness and his anger. To disappear like that, after a moment like that, he both needed to and didn’t want to know why at the same time so he kept staring at James’ feet. At least he had remembered to take off his shoes when he came in. James apparently had more consideration for the floors of his flat than he did for him. Fantastic. Since he refused to look up, he saw James slide one of his feet until it brushed against the side of his own bare foot. When he tried a slight caress, Q yanked his foot away, much to the audible displeasure of the man across from him; he’d heard that annoyed huff over the comms enough times to know exactly what it was.

“Three days. It’s been three days, Bond, so you don’t get to sigh at me.”

The foot seemed to be going for a second attempt at gentle touching so he mostly ineffectively and half-heartedly poked at it to stop that from happening. It was slightly childish but slightly enjoyable at same time. What was the man even doing here?

“James.”

“What?”

“You’ve called me 007 and Bond. I thought…” What? What did he think? “…never mind.” That was most certainly not helpful; he broke the stalemate and lifted his eyes to glare at him better.

What Q saw made his heart ache like someone was squeezing all of the life out of it.

He would have been willing to bet that there was three days’ worth of stubble on James’ chin and cheeks and the redness in his eyes was from drinking more liquor in those three days than anyone else would in three months. But it was what he saw behind the redness that truly hurt. A reflection of his own sadness was mixed up with loathing and he _knew _it was entirely self-directed.__

__“You idiot. You bloody imbecile.” There was more irritation in his tone than he intended but his own emotions were getting tangled up with the agony that was leaking out of James. “What have you been doing to yourself?”_ _

__There was a shrug of his shoulders and an almost rueful shake of his head and Q was half-tempted to strangle the man himself._ _

__“Nothing entirely out of the ordinary.”_ _

__The terrible thing was that Q knew it wasn’t. He had looked like this the first time they met, although he wasn’t as bad off now as he’d been back then. Q had been told to expect the nigh-mythical suave and self-assured 007 only to sit down in the National Gallery next to a strained and tired mortal, held together by nothing but stubborn pride and a sense of duty. It had been painful to see when they were strangers but now… now it was so much worse. It was perfectly clear that M’s words had flung them both in a twisted spiral of doubt and turmoil. Sitting up a bit, Q leaned forward and placed his hands on top of James’. It was a bit of an awkward position but the small smile it garnered more than compensated for the twinge in his back. Particularly when James started to tentatively caress the bit of his fingers that he could reach with his thumbs._ _

__“You do realize that words work better than scotch?”_ _

__Something flashed in those icy depths before his gaze shifted away toward an empty corner of the room. Q barely had time to register that it might have been fear in James’ eyes before a harsh, mirthless chuckle echoed in his ears._ _

__“That depends on the words.”_ _

__“Try some, then.” He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. What words had James so seemingly spooked? What thought had driven him to disappear into a drunken stupor for three days? Inspired by the little maneuver that James had tried for earlier, Q pivoted his foot so it was resting on top of the one that James had touch him with earlier, hoping they might both find a bit of reassurance in the extra bit of contact. “James…”_ _

__Q wasn’t sure how long he sat there, waiting for him to say something. Anything. It could have been mere seconds but it passed like hours. He watched that talented mouth make two or three abortive attempts at speech so he wasn’t surprised that when the words came out, they were barely above a whisper._ _

__“I don’t want you to be done with me yet.”_ _

__The wretchedness in those ten words was devastating. Q wondered just how much havoc he could wreak in M’s life without being tossed in a deep, dark cell. Poking at his insecurities was one thing but poking at James’? That was so far beyond unacceptable to him, it was on a different plane of existence than unacceptable. He had seen the nightmares and the drinking and the blood and the scars. There was a rage building in his bones, drowning out his own heartache for the moment. No one, especially M, fucked with his… well, with his James. He guided the man through missions in far-flung corners of a map; he could guide them through this too. Grabbing a hold of James’ hands, Q yanked him forward with a decent amount of force. As he figured, James was just out of it enough that he fell forward until he was on his knees between Q’s legs. The anguish on his face melted into a slightly forced look of desire and he knew his intent was to bury the quiet honesty in loud seduction. Q didn’t want that to happen. The vulnerability, the trust he showed by saying something like that… it wasn’t that it needed to be rewarded but it definitely needed to be appreciated. Q found himself quite touched._ _

__“James…” As gracefully as he could, he untangled their hands so he could cup both sides of James’ face, doing his best to ignore the scratch of the prickly stubble. Normally, he rather enjoyed the look and feel of a bit of facial hair but on James, it was wrong. In his mind, clean-shaven James symbolized confident James. Stubble was a dead giveaway that something was wrong. And while there was wrong here, there was also something quite right. It seemed James might be as attached to him as he was to James. “I’m not done with you. I am very much not done with you.”_ _

__He hoped for a smile or at least a lifting of the storm clouds in his eyes but instead he watched the Agent Bond mask drop into place and tried not to squirm as James analyzed every micro expression on his face. Q ordered his heart not to plunge into the pit of his stomach and commanded it to be patient. Sometimes James needed to do this, he knew that from experience by now. A lifetime littered with unsaid truths and spoken lies made him a step slower to believe what he was told on occasion, especially when it came to matters of the heart. Be patient, he reminded himself. Be patient._ _

__“Then why do you look as if you haven’t slept since we left his office?”_ _

__Alcohol was James’ self-therapy method of choice but forced insomnia was his… and James knew it. For a second, he entertained the idea of making up a story about getting sucked into working on a new gadget of some sort but it wouldn’t be right. Honesty deserved honesty. It was just that there was a part of him that wanted to keep his own fears to himself. Some of it was selfishness – James had disappeared for three days and he had every right to his hurt. However, part of it was something else. He knew his doubts would hurt James and seeing the damage that his own despair had caused made Q reluctant to add to it. But trust deserved trust._ _

__“You disappeared on me.” His eyes closed and his head dipped of their own volition. His hands stayed cradling James’ face so at least there was that. Q tried to keep himself from continuing – tried to keep some of the words inside – but the thoughts and the ache would not be denied. “We stood there together and you left.” He took a moment to breathe, to keep his voice from cracking since his heart insisted on speaking. “I thought you were done with me.”_ _

__A gentle pressure under his chin forced his head back up but he couldn’t quite find the courage to open his eyes. Everything felt incredibly raw. He might not be a double-oh but opening up like that wasn’t easy for him either. He kept his hands on James’ face, using the contact to anchor himself to an extent. They sat there, with neither of them moving for several minutes until he felt a slight tug as some of James’ fingers started playing with his hair. Q knew it was probably meant to not only comfort but also to coax the rest of the words out of him because of course, an agent would know there was something he was trying not to say._ _

__“I’m sorry, Q.”_ _

__The softly spoken simple sentence accomplished what touch and time could not. Q took a few deep breaths before he found the extra bit of courage to open his eyes and make eye contact with James. Only to be greeted by the sight of the beginnings of unshed tears in those blue eyes. Bloody hell, the last thing he had wanted to do was make James feel worse but he obviously had, just as he feared. It almost made him want to keep the deepest part of his doubts to himself but the sorrow and regret on James’ face eased the burden of sharing in some probably slightly twisted way._ _

__“I’m not the sort of person that someone usually keeps around.”_ _

__It said something about how close they had become when Q wasn’t surprised as the water dried up in James’ eyes and his expression went from anguished to enraged in the span of only a couple of heartbeats._ _

__“Give me a name and an address.”_ _

__He probably should have been a bit disturbed and repulsed that James was basically offering to maim (at the very least) his admittedly shitty ex-boyfriend but honestly, he wasn’t. In James’ own way, it was protective, possessive, and sweet. The Psych office would have a field day if he called it romantic in the range of their hearing. But it was, to him; besides, it wasn’t like James was the only person in this relationship that enjoyed a gratuitous explosion every now and then._ _

__“It’s cute that you think I haven’t already completely ruined him.”_ _

__A smile spread across his face that matched the one on James’. The entire atmosphere was lighter now and Q knew that he, for one, felt more on an even keel. It seemed that they had been afraid of the same damn thing. It was all probably a bit fragile but it was a place to start. There was still a question that needed to be answered, though._ _

__“Should I pack?”_ _

__Just as he recognized the mischievous smirk for what it was, James grabbed him and pulled him against his chest, adjusting their positions until he was essentially sitting in James’ lap. That was entirely without any sort of grace. The movement had forced him to relinquish his hold on James’ face but that was made up for by the fact that his hands were now settled on James’ back. For once, he was only wearing a simple jumper so Q could enjoy the feel of the nicely developed back muscles under his fingers. James had asked him which outfit he liked best and his answer was ‘the one without all the bloody layers.’ The suits were well-tailored perfection but Lack of Layers James was his favorite James. It was hard not to laugh as James placed faint little kisses along his neck; the combination of the teasing sensation with the itchy scratch of the stubble was extremely ticklish. He wanted to return the favor but when James had more or less smooshed them together, he paid little attention to the position of his glasses. They were titled at an awkward angle and it was quite uncomfortable. Apparently, James had the same thought because the fingers that were making a mess out of his hair moved and plucked them off his head, probably bending the frames all out of shape. A semi-distant sound told him that James had thrown his glasses somewhere else in the room._ _

__“You had better hope those aren’t broken.”_ _

__James’ mouth continued its path up his neck and Q shivered as he started to lightly nibble along his earlobe. He was very much quite good at that, even when Q was fully aware that it was as much a method of distraction as it was a method of temptation._ _

__“You have four replacement pairs in the flat alone.” He did? And how was he supposed to focus on anything when James whispered in his ear like that? “One in the kitchen beside the canisters of tea.” The lips moved away from his ear and toward his temple to place a kiss there. “One in the living room behind the television.” A quick peck on the tip of his nose. “One in the bathroom next to you razor.” There was a hint of a kiss at the very corner of his mouth. “One in the study inside your box of spare computer parts.”_ _

__Well, then._ _

__“It pays to be prepared. However, you never answered my question.”_ _

__Another barely there kiss – this time just a little bit closer to the center of his lips. Q was suddenly glad that James kept an extra one of his archaic yet sexy straight razors at his flat. Dealing with the stubble was rapidly ascending his list of priorities._ _

__“Yes I did.”_ _

__Q pulled back enough to get a better look at James’ obviously pleased face. He supposed that if you translated Bond to English, ‘pulled you into my arms and teasingly kissed you’ probably meant ‘yes you need to pack because we are definitely going.’ The wide grin on his face was quickly mirrored on James’. At least as best he could tell. Without his glasses on, his vision was all-around terrible. He wanted to just sit there and enjoy spending time with James, doing _whatever_ they got up to but his brain was catching up with the logistics of everything. He needed to pack, set the security system for long-term monitoring, clean out the kitchen, and make sure James shaved and showered since he was not climbing into bed still slightly smelling of expensive scotch. Also this floor was uncomfortable and his knees were really starting to protest such poor treatment. And if his knees were aching, then James’ had to be too. Q knew better to make a joke about either of their ages; in either case, such references often made him uncomfortable._ _

__“If I need to pack, then you are going to have to let me stand up.”_ _

__With a bit of reluctance, James released the tight hold he had on him and Q scrambled up, albeit with little finesse. James fared better on that end but Q tactfully ignored the stretching the other man did in favor of squinting and trying to find the glasses-shaped blur in his room. Thankfully, James came to his rescue and picked up his glasses from where they had landed on his pillow. The lens were a bit smudged but they seemed to be not too worse for wear. His sight restored, Q found himself looking at his empty suitcase at a complete loss as to what to fill it with. This wasn’t the first holiday he’d been on but it was the first one with James and he doubted that his idea of having a good time on holiday was sprawling on a more comfortable bed, ordering room service, and seeing what mischief he could cause with the hotel Wi-Fi._ _

__“What did you pack?”_ _

__James didn’t answer immediately so Q turned and saw him leaning against the wall, looking positively sheepish._ _

__“I don’t know.”_ _

__And that made no sense whatsoever._ _

__“How can you not know what you packed? Are you even packed?”_ _

__“I am but…” His voice trailed off and Q could swear that he was muttering._ _

__“What?”_ _

__James rolled his eyes and made some sort of low grumbling sound._ _

__“Moneypenny did my packing. She met me at my door, handed me my keys, and told me the luggage was in the backseat of my car.”_ _

__And that made even less sense. Why hadn’t James just gone into his flat and done his own packing? The idea of choosing laziness and going with the prepacked bags did not mesh with James’ more than slight obsession with the details of his attire. The only reason he wouldn’t have redone her work was if…_ _

__“Did Moneypenny lock you out of your flat?”_ _

__James’s face devolved into a full-on pout and he crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. That was hilarious. He would have to send her an impressed congratulatory text at some point. It took skill to lockdown the security system at James’ flat to where the resident couldn’t even get back in. Q could do it, of course, but he had designed the system in the first place._ _

__“She said it was time for drastic measures and that I needed to get over here before I fucked everything up.”_ _

__Make that a congratulatory and thank you text, then. He hadn’t been sure how to interpret the sympathetic look she’d given him after they’d left M’s office and James had pretty much stomped away. Apparently, she knew more about the status of their relationship than she had let on and Q was grateful for both her discretion and her interference._ _

__“Then I guess I won’t worry about dressing to match.” The look that James shot him was completely inscrutable and Q couldn’t help but laugh a bit at it as he gestured in the direction of his suitcase. “I’ll take care of this and order some Chinese food. Go shower and shave. Make yourself human again.”_ _

__“Are you going to be this bossy the entire time we’re in Spain?”_ _

__“Maybe.”_ _

__“Promises, promises, my dear quartermaster.”_ _

__James stepped away from the wall and headed toward the bathroom. He stared at the suitcase, trying to figure out where to begin. He was still pondering when he heard the shower start running. After that, there was no thought process possible other than ‘James is wet and naked right over there.’ Q decided packing could wait for a while longer and went to join him._ _

__

__-end chapter-_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've named Q's cats after two of my favorite fictional felines (treecats to be precise), Lionheart and Nimitz, from David Weber's Honor Harrington universe.


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